


Sonnet Here, Sonnet There

by ilovemyalpaca



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, M/M, Shakespeare, one sided bike chanderson', sonnet number 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovemyalpaca/pseuds/ilovemyalpaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one could read Shakespeare quite like Blaine Anderson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sonnet Here, Sonnet There

**Author's Note:**

> Because I am in love with poetry and needed Blaine to share that love and Mike to learn it. And angsty because I apparently like to make Mike yearning. Originally posted Oct 12, 2011 to tumblr.com.

“I don’t get it. How is this supposed to be romantic?” Mike flipped over on his stomach and tossed the books of sonnets down, frowning at their worn pages. The assignment was simple; find a sonnet that spoke to you, one that you could relate to, and share it with the class on Friday.

Then Mike had actually started reading them and found that he couldn’t care less about them. None were sad or romantic or touching. Objectively, the boy could see that, yes, they might be moving to some who read them but Mike couldn’t find a single one that made him feel anything.

He was just about to give up when Blaine walked into the room.

“Hey. How’s homework?” The shorter boy started, pulling off his shoes and glancing over at the Asian with a smile. Mike let his eyes skim over the strip of skin revealed by Blaine’s stretching and then back to his book.

“It’s complicated. We have a love-hate relationship.” He grinned deprecatingly at the other boy and waved the book of sonnets as means of explanation.

Shoes and socks now lying on the floor in a messy heap that Kurt would reprimand him for later, Blaine flopped down on the floor next to Mike and reached for the small, hardback book.

“Shakespeare.” The boy raised triangular eyebrows and let out a low whistle. “What’s the assignment?”

Mike huffed and tried not to stare at the beautiful face sitting beside him. “We’re supposed to share a sonnet that we connect with and read it in class Friday. I just can’t seem to find one I like…”

Blaine chuckled low and the Asian forcefully ignored the twist of heat low in his stomach. The man shouldn’t be allowed to walk around like sex personified. It wasn’t fair.

“Seems simple enough. Hmmm… have you tried number 100? It’s literally about a lack of muse. Ironic and fitting.” The curly-headed boy smiled but Mike shook his head.

“Nope. First one I looked at. I’ve been skipping around but none of them seem to mean anything.”

Blaine nodded thoughtfully and flipped a few pages before his whole demeanor changed. He sat up and breathed in the confidence he always exuded during a performance.

_“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?_  
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:  
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:   
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;   
And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;  
But thy eternal summer shall not fade  
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;  
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,  
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:   
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,  
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.” 

Mike felt all the air leave him as each word was spoken. These words were passion filled and evoked a deep melancholy pleasure in the olive-skinned boy. Words of love and praise that were spoken to him but not directed at him. How he longed to feel that rush of giddiness that came with knowing someone you love felt those same things right back at you.

But his moment of awe was broken by the front door opening and Blaine looking over to see who had come in. A look of open and honest ecstasy covered his face and Mike let his eyes glance over to see what had caught Blaine’s full attention.

The flair of jealous shame came and the Asian tried not to react as Blaine hopped up and met the slender male at the door, taking a bag of groceries from him and dropping an earnest kiss on Kurt’s lips.

Mike’s illusion was gone, swept away by the harsh reality that Blaine didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t, ever love him the way he loved the brunet. Kurt was the only one he’d ever want, the only one he’d wanted for years. Reaching for the forgotten book of poems, dropped in Blaine’s enthusiasm, Mike knew right then he’d found a poem that made him feel something. But Michael Zhou Chang wouldn’t be sharing Sonnet number 18 with the class and he hoped to god it wasn’t one of the ones chosen by his peers.

When Kurt called out that dinner would be done in a half hour, Mike was already gathering up his stuff to go to his room. When Blaine came to ask if he’d found his sonnet, kicked out of the kitchen to quit distracting Kurt, Mike was nowhere to be found. When the two of them called him to tell him the spaghetti was done, Mike was already asleep, face buried in his pillows to hide the tears he’d been crying.


End file.
